


Leto

by Dernhelm



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Healing Sex, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dernhelm/pseuds/Dernhelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being Fenris' lover is complicated, especially since coupling brings back recollections of his troubled past. When their attempts to deliberately bring up Fenris' old memories lead to more harm than good, Hawke decides it's time to try a new tactic. </p><p>Set midway through Act III, well after the events of the "Alone" quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leto

 “Say it!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Last time you—”

“I’m ready this time.”

“Alright…Leto.”

Fenris’ head snapped back, as if Hawke had reached out and grabbed a handful of his pale hair. His entire body shuddered, the serpentine Lyrium tattoos glowing all the brighter against his olive skin.

Hawke bit his lower lip, trying desperately to keep himself still. It was the sweetest form of torture, to be inside Fenris and yet unable to move as he wished. But he had promised his lover that he would do what he could to help him reclaim his lost memories.

Fenris, on the other hand, thrashed upon Hawke like a man possessed. His eyes were closed, either to relish the pleasure of entry or to better capture his fleeting memories, Hawke did not know, but he would not let Fenris wander alone.

“Leto,” Hawke whispered. The name felt thick on Hawke’s tongue, like a foreign word he had not yet learned the proper nuances of.  “Leto, tell me what you see.”

Hawke teasingly brushed the back of his hand across Fenris’ straining member, and the elf gave another delicious jump.

“A…a garden,” he stuttered, “roses, red as blood. Fed by blood.”

“Whose blood?” Hawke asked gently.

“The losers.”

“Which losers?”

“Those who weren’t strong enough, fast enough.” Anguish had crept into his voice, and his hips began to slow. This was the danger in using their coupling in this fashion. More than once they’d had to stop, Fenris’s memories too dark, too bitter to mingle with their pleasure.

“Fenris.” Hawke deliberately used his lover’s new name, and firmly squeezed his muscled thigh. “Fenris, stay with me here.”

But the elf’s eyes remained shut, his lips twisting in fury. “Denarius buried the losers of the matches in his garden. Cheap fertilizer he said. But it was to remind them all…”

Fenris’s body was slowing, his excitement dimming. Hawke wasn’t sure what to do. If he enflamed Fenris anew, he risked pushing him further down the dark spiral. But if he remained still, there was a good chance their passion would simply dissolve into rage and regret.

So, he reached for Fenris’ hand, which by now had clenched into a fist upon Hawke’s taut belly. He loosened the fingers so he could entwine his own, and wrapped both their hands around Fenris’ flagging shaft. He hoped that by speaking with his body, he could anchor Fenris here even as he took him deeper inside his mind.

“Remind them all of what, Leto?” Hawke murmured, giving a small thrust of his hips. “Tell me.”

It seemed to work. Fenris gave deep moan, distracted by the bliss. He writhed anew, in time to the stroking rhythm of Hawke’s large hand.

“Remind them...of what happens to those who were too weak to serve him.” Fenris growled, rage growing with his excitement. “He buried six of them, with only the flowers to mark their graves.”

The tattoos were glowing bright enough to blind Hawke, but he could not bear to tear his gaze away from Fenris’s face. The mix of physical pleasure and emotional pain lent the elf a startling, feral beauty that made Hawke’s heart twist. Only he got to see Fenris like this, at once so vulnerable and so dangerous. It made him want to do anything to protect him, to please him.

Fenris was nearing the end of his control, his body jerking and tightening.

“Maker, move! Hawke, please!” Fenris begged.

Relief flooded Hawke, and he complied instantly. Not only was Fenris still with him, but they were actually going to be able to complete together this time.

Hawke drove up into Fenris, finally able to relish the satiny feel of the elf’s engulfing flesh, the heat of his body, the music of his moans. He stroked Fenris’s cock with renewed abandon, determined to take them over the edge together before another memory rose and threatened this moment.

Fenris howled, throwing his head back as his whole body seized in spasms of pleasure. A tide of slick warmth released into Hawke’s hand, signaling his cue. He let himself go, bucking furiously into Fenris’s shuddering body. He lost himself utterly, emptying himself in great violent waves.

“Albion!” Fenris cried out as the last surge went through him. His eyes snapped open blindly, and something in the desperate look in his eyes made Hawke’s stomach knot. “Oh no…no!”

Fenris jolted off Hawke, rolling away onto his side. Hawke tried to keep his stomach from knotting. This was not the first time Fenris has bolted away from him after his climax. He knew it was the memories, sometimes the phantom pain of the Lyrium tattoos. But it did not mean it did not hurt Hawke, especially when Fenris called out another’s name with such…such longing.

“Leto?” Hawke reached out his clean hand to touch Fenris’s hunched, trembling shoulder. “Fenris?”

To his surprise, Fenris jerked away even further. Hawke’s heart lurched into his throat. What kind of memory had they just dislodged from the dark corners of Fenris’ past?

“For—forgive me.” Fenris choked. His words were swallowed by a soft sob.

Hawke was startled. Painful though his memories had been, Hawke had never once seen the strong elf reduced to tears.

“Forgive me, Albion.”

Suddenly, Hawke realized that Fenris was not speaking to him at all. In this moment, Hawke was no more than a shadow upon his sheets. Hawke stared up at the cracked ceiling of Fenris’s ruined mansion, and tried to keep the heat from prickling at the corners of his eyes. This was worse than when they had to stop mid-coitus. At least then, Fenris would lay in his arms, murmur apologies and promises of future pleasures. At least Fenris was still his.

He did not know what to do. He wanted to reach out to Fenris, but Fenris would not have him. He wanted to leave, but was afraid to leave the elf trapped in his mind like this.

So he did the only thing he could. He waited.

Eventually, Fenris’ breathing quieted, his sobs stilling into soft, rhythmic breathing. When Hawke realized that he’d fallen asleep, the sorrow in his own chest overflowed. He roused himself out of Fenris’s bed, and set about putting himself right. Once clean, he wrapped himself in the old, blue robe Fenris has given him for his nighttime stays. He couldn’t bear to look at Fenris’ sprawled form on the bed, for he knew if he did he would begin weeping himself. So, he poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the table, and sat himself beside the fire to wait.

***

He did not realize he’d drifted off until he felt the soft brush of fingertips upon his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Hawke.” Fenris murmured, his voice raspy with regret.

For one black moment, Hawke considered feigning sleep, to avoid the talk that was coming.

“I don’t blame you for ignoring me,” Fenris said sadly, “I’m just surprised you’re still here.”

Hawke sighed deeply, and opened his eyes.

“Part of me is, as well, to be honest,” Hawke said. He met Fenris’ gaze as the elf knelt beside him, and when he saw the keen sorrow lurking in the emerald green, Hawke’s heart broke anew.

“I’ll understand if this…this is too much for you to bear.” Fenris looked away. “A lover who loses himself to dark memories each time you try to give him pleasure.” He swallowed hard. “You deserve better, Hawke.”

Hawke’s hand drifted up from his lap and gently palmed Fenris’s smooth cheek. Fighting back the fear that Fenris would pull away again, Hawke pulled his face towards him.

“What I deserve is up for debate,” Hawke said. “What I want is _you_ , Fenris.”

Hawke watched as Fenris swallowed hard, mesmerized by the graceful arch of his tattooed throat.

“Even if there’s a chance that I will never be able to make love to you without becoming lost in my memories?”

“Yes.” Hawke leaned forward, a trapped Fenris’ lips with his own. The elf melted under his kiss, his hands coming up to stroke Hawke’s stubbled jaw.

“I love you.” Fenris murmured when they broke away. “For more than three years, I have loved you.”

The fog in Hawke’s heart vanished, blown away by the warmth of Fenris’ confession. Much they had shared, in words and flesh, but this was the first time Fenris has admitted his feelings so openly.

“I almost lost you to my fear once. I will not let it drive us apart again.” Fenris studied Hawke’s face, searching for a sign that Hawke believed him.

“I will not be chased away so easily, my dear one,” Hawke said softly, Fenris’ words having bolstered his own confidence.

“Will you come back to bed?” Fenris asked.

Once they had settled themselves under the blankets, Fenris laid his head upon Hawke’s chest in quiet contemplation. Hawke was loathed to break the peace they had just re-forged, but a question still burned in his mind.

“Fenris.”

“Yes?”

“Who is Albion?”

Hawke felt the elf stiffen in his arms, and he wished he had left it well enough alone. Fenris was quiet for so long that Hawke feared that he had managed to drive Fenris into isolation once again. He had just opened his mouth to tell Fenris to forget the question, when the elf’s quiet voice drifted up.

“He was my lover.”

Hawke knew it was foolish to feel jealous; he knew he wasn’t the first to know the elf’s flesh. However, seeing how Fenris had wept at the memory, it was obvious Hawke hadn’t been the first to know the elf’s love.

“I don’t remember much,” Fenris said slowly. “He was another of Denarius’s slaves. He too, was an elf. A fighter as well, and he trained beside me.”

Hawke forced himself to relax, to stroke Fenris’ shoulder comfortingly. He had just said it would take more than a few ghosts to chase him away. He had to stand by his words, no matter how difficult it was to do so.

“Did you love him?”

“In a fashion, yes,” Fenris said, after a long moment. “He brought me joy, in a time where there was little to be found.”

“And you forgot him,” Hawke said, trying to keep his voice level, even as a dozen questions whirled in his mind. Would Fenris want to search for this Albion now? Go back to Tevinter, and storm Denarius’ estate? But with Denarius dead, would his slaves become the property of another magister, or be given their freedom? Tracking one elf slave would not be easy…

“I killed him.”

Hawke’s body went cold, his thoughts stilling and his jealousy evaporating.

“He was my final competitor in the tournament for the Lyrium tattoos.” Fenris’ voice shook, and Hawke instinctively drew him closer. To his relief, Fenris did not pull away this time.

“A fight to the death?” Hawke asked softly.

“Yes,” Fenris said flatly. “Denarius knew of our connection. It made the fight all the more _amusing_ for him to watch.”

They lay silently for a moment, each absorbing the horror of Fenris' past.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke finally said.

Fenris stiffened in his arms.

“I do not want your pity.”

“I do not offer pity,” Hawke sighed, “I offer condolences.”

Fenris relaxed once again, and Hawke’s heart squeezed in sympathy. His beloved had suffered so much pain. He wondered sometimes if Fenris’s memory loss wasn’t a silent blessing, the Maker granting him a small reprieve. Was it wise, then, for them to try to dredge up these forgotten sorrows?

They lay in silence for a long time; Fenris mourning his lost love, Hawke offering him quiet strength and comfort. Eventually, Hawke believed that Fenris had drifted back to sleep in his arms, until the elf’s raspy voice broke their fragile calm.

“I am sorry, Hawke,” Fenris whispered. “I’m sorry I keep dragging you into my past like this.”

“That’s what loving someone means, Fenris,” Hawke said softly. He planted a kiss on the top of Fenris’s tousled, silver hair. “It means sharing everything: past, present, and future.”

“Future,” Fenris murmured. He turned in Hawke’s arms so he could see his face. “You truly wish a future with me?” He said it slowly, wonderingly, as if the realization was too good to be true.

“You _are_ my future, Fenris.” Hawke brushed the pad of his thumb across Fenris’ plump bottom lip. “No matter what happened in your past, you’re here with me now. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Even if our future holds more dark memories each time we couple?”

“Yes, because it means I’ll be coupling with _you_.” Hawke paused for a moment. “However, we don’t have to keep doing this if the memories are too much. Truly, I would be content, if it meant your peace of mind.”

Fenris thought for a long, quiet moment, mulling over Hawke’s words.

“I want to remember,” Fenris finally said, “even if it means knowing what I did, who I hurt, who I lost…” his voice trailed off. For a moment Hawke believed that Fenris was going to change his mind, but when Fenris turned his piercing gaze up to Hawke once more, he saw the tentative smile smoothing his face.  “And there’s the fact that I _like_ coupling with you.”

“I do as well,” Hawke said with a smile. He pressed a kiss to Fenris’ smooth brow, loving how the wisps of his pale hair tickled his lips. “Very much so.”

“Perhaps, someday, once we’ve unearthed all my memories, then our pleasure will be just that.” Fenris’s fingers drew idle lines across Hawke’s chest, tracing the skin peeking out through the fabric of the robe. “Just pleasure.”

Hawke shivered at his touch, remembering the feel of his lover’s sweaty body writhing above him— _around_ him—and the pure, feral beauty that contorted Fenris’ lovely face when he let himself go.  There had indeed been moments that had been pure pleasure…

Perhaps they’d been going about this the wrong way.

***

“Maybe that day can come even sooner,” Hawke said slowly. He rolled partially on top of Fenris, and leaned in for a long, lingering kiss. As Hawke slipped his tongue between Fenris’ parted lips, he slid his hand along Fenris’s bare back, tracing the sculpted muscles until he could palm the swell of his ass.

“Are you not sated, my Hawke?” Fenris murmured against Hawke’s lips. “You do not need to—”

Hawke swallowed his protests in his kiss. He sucked gently on Fenris’ bottom lip before his tongue traced the pale line of a Lyrium tattoo down the column of his noble throat. The effect was instantaneous. Fenris’ entire body went pliant and feverish, quivering under Hawke’s mouth. Hawke marveled at the transformation. It wasn’t too long ago that Fenris would have shied away from Hawke touching his tattoos, claiming discomfort. Now he delighted in the sensations of his sensitive flesh.  

“I do not need. I _want_ ,” Hawke said gruffly, looking up to meet Fenris’ green eyes. He squeezed Fenris’s buttock in his calloused hand. “I want you to lay there on your back and do nothing but focus on how good it feels to have your gorgeous ass filled by my cock.”

Fenris’s face flushed a deep crimson, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His member, which had already been slowly pulsing to life, jolted against Hawke’s thigh at his deliciously crude request. To further illustrate his point, Hawke clasped Fenris’ shaft in his other hand and stroked it firmly, loving how Fenris’s sighed and twitched under his touch.

When Hawke saw that Fenris’ eyelids had drifted shut, he scooted down the bed and clamped Fenris’s nipple in his teeth a bit more sharply than normal. Fenris yelped, and Hawke soothed the ache by lapping his tongue across the tender flesh.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hawke whispered, “stay here with me.”

Fenris nodded, and anchored himself by threading his fingers through Hawke’s tousled hair. Hawke resumed his ministrations, licking the swollen skin before switching to the other furrowed bud. All the while, his hand slid over Fenris’ hardened member, circling the head with the rough pad of his thumb, teasing out thick drops of precum.

Fenris whimpered as he was slowly and deliberately pleasured. He squirmed so vigorously under Hawke that the tie to his borrowed robe fell open, and Hawke rubbed his hardened cock against Fenris’ muscled leg. Pleasure branched through Hawke’s body, making him moan softly.

“You’re driving me mad!” Fenris cried.

The elf rolled onto his back, spreading his legs in invitation. Hawke accepted, pressing himself between Fenris’ lean thighs. Positioned so, he could tease Fenris’ member with his own, and Hawke wrapped his fingers around both of them, stroking slowly.

“Tell me what you want,” Hawke crooned into Fenris’ ear. “Tell me what you want, _Leto_ , and I’ll give it to you.” 

Fenris jolted violently underneath Hawke at the sound of his true name, and his eyes began to roll towards the back of his skull. It was the tell-tale sign that he was slipping into the stream of his memories. But Hawke kissed Fenris gently, stroked their joined members even harder.

“Stay with me, Fenris,” Hawke said, “stay in your body as I fill you…”

“Yes,” Fenris nodded, obviously struggling to hold onto himself. “Enter me, Hawke. I’m ready.”

He wasn’t lying. As Hawke positioned himself, he felt the warm slickness coating Fenris’ loosened opening. Fenris hadn’t cleaned away all the evidence of their previous coupling, and it was just enough to ease the way as Hawke pressed himself into Fenris’ hot, yielding flesh.

Hawke forced himself to stay still, relishing the pulsing heat even as he focused his attention on his lover’s eyes. There was slackness to his expression that told Hawke that Fenris was skirting the edge of memory, and he tenderly stroked Fenris’s sweat-dampened cheek.

“Tell me how it feels,” Hawke murmured, “tell me, Fenris, Leto, how it feels to be filled by your love.”

Fenris’ eyes locked desperately onto Hawke’s, like a drowning man clinging to a rope.

“It…it…” He wet his lower lip with the tip of his deft tongue, his cheeks flushing a deeper scarlet. “It feels like I’m being split apart and being put back together at the same time.”

Fenris shifted his hips, and Hawke groaned as his slick flesh rippled around him.

“It feels like you’re touching the very core of me.”

He twitched his hips up, silently bidding Hawke to move. Hawke complied eagerly, pulling back until he almost slid out before driving back in. Their earlier coupling had taken the edge off his lust, so Hawke set a languid rhythm, content to watch his beloved writhe and moan underneath him.

They moved for what felt like hours, grinding against each other like two cogs in a well-oiled machine. Each time it seemed that Fenris was sinking into the dark pool of his memories, Hawke would pull him out again with kisses, whispered encouragements, and well-timed thrusts. In this way, Hawke kept Fenris on the edge of lust without allowing him the sweet relief of plummeting over the edge, until his he was begging for release.

“Maker’s Breath, please, Hawke!” Fenris cried. He arched his back so that Hawke’s member nudged against the soft, secret spot inside him. “I can take no more!”

Hawke sat back on his heels, and easily pulled the lithe elf up onto his lap. Fenris yelped as the weight of his body sunk him deeper onto Hawke’s shaft, and he bit into Hawke’s muscled shoulder to stifle his cry.

“Touch yourself, Fenris,” Hawke ordered, “give yourself the pleasure you so desperately crave.”

Fenris complied eagerly, and leaned back to snake one of his hands between them. He stroked himself feverishly, his hand moving in time to Hawke’s driving thrusts.  He neared his release quickly, his movements becoming fierce and rhythmic, his Lyrium tattoos glowing like silver in the moonlight.

Hawke steeled himself. The climax would be the most challenging moment of this exercise. Every other time that they’d coupled, it had been Fenris’ orgasm that had driven him deepest into his turbulent memories. So, Hawke forced himself to watch carefully, even as every nerve in his body screamed at him to throw Fenris down and pound into him with reckless abandon.

“Maker…maker…no…” Fenris moaned. His movements became erratic, less rhythmic, his head falling back and hiding his eyes. Hawke knew he was losing him.

He wound his fingers in Fenris’ silver hair, and carefully pulled his head back up so Hawke could see his face. Fenris’ eyes had gone a milky jade, his expression haunted even as he panted and moaned. Hawke pressed a hard, sharp kiss to Fenris’ slack lips, trying to breathe life into him.

“Fight it, Fenris!” Hawke hissed. “Think of me, of _us_! The first time you saw me, the first time we kissed…don’t you dare let your memories rob you of what we share!”

Fenris gave a strangled cry as he reached his climax. Wetness spreading across Hawke’s belly, and Fenris’ flesh tightened like a noose around Hawke’s aching shaft. It was too much.

“I’m sorry…” Hawke groaned as his control finally slipped. Crushing Fenris against him, he thrust up madly into the pulsing heat, spending his seed deep inside his beloved.

It was several moments before Hawke could pull his head up from Fenris’ shoulder. Regret pooled in his belly, sure that he had lost Fenris to his black thoughts.

To his surprise, it was one of Fenris’ rare smiles that greeted him, a light shining in his eyes as brightly as the summer sun. Hawke’s hopes rose.

“It worked?” He asked.

“Indeed it did!” Fenris laughed softly in wonder, palming Hawke’s sweaty, stubbled cheek in his hand. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was by far better than it’s been before.”

Hawke’s heart swelled. Finally, he had given his lover what he had always wanted: pleasure without fear, without darkness.

He kissed Fenris, relishing the salt of their mingled sweat on his tongue.

“You are a marvel, Leto Fenris,” Hawke said softly, both names slipping over his tongue before he could stop them.

Fenris was silent as he mulled the combination of his names over in his mind. After a moment, he nodded.

“Maybe I can be both,” he decided quietly. “If you can accept me as such, then perhaps I can as well.”

Fenris kissed Hawke again, and this time it was fueled with the passion of surety.

“Then say it.” Hawke murmured. “If you are ready.”

Fenris licked his kiss-swollen bottom lip nervously. He looked up at Hawke, and hope grew in his emerald eyes, as fragile and precious as a blossom of Andraste's Grace forcing its way through a crack in the Gallows' stone floor.

“I am Leto Fenris,” Fenris said quietly, "and I am yours, Hawke."

"As I am yours, Leto." Hawke murmured, his heart swelling in his chest. "I am yours."


End file.
